Runs-Ins, Diners, and Dives
by breetoria
Summary: "Dean shouts, running the few feet to the back of the diner. He doesn't care about how he looks, goofy-looking smile or the sappy chick flick moment, running across a cheap diner instead of a meadow. Cas is there." In which Cas will not give Dean more chances. Vague spoilers for the end of 8x02. Rated for a swear or two. Might write a follow-up.


It was a simple case, one that involved grave-digging and fire and getting dirty and finishing at one o'clock in the morning. Dean doesn't care what waiter he pisses off-he needs a burger. There's only one diner with its lights still on. It's close to the graveyard, so Dean stops there on their way between the graveyard and their motel. They had no time to change or wash. Dean does not think this is a problem. Too dirty, too sweaty, not caring, Dean pushes open the door of the generic small town diner. Sam nags him-something about it being too late, and can't he shower and grab something in the morning?

"No," Dean says, "and I don't think there's a dress code for any tacky fluorescent lighted..."

He stops. There's someone in the corner booth, barely visible over a formidable triple-patty burger and a mountain of fries. But there's only one guy who could eat that much grease and meat in a sitting and still look pale and thin.

"Cas!" Dean shouts, running the few feet to the back of the diner. He doesn't care about how he looks, goofy-looking smile or the sappy chick flick moment, running across a cheap diner instead of a meadow. Cas is there. Fucking Cas.

But Castiel doesn't reciprocate. He stares at Dean, big doe eyes confused, almost frightened. Dean's smile falters.

"Cas?" Sam looks questioningly at Cas, then Dean. "Dean said you'd-you'd died."

"Hello, Sam. Dean." Castiel stares at his burger, then glances at the empty spot next to him, and the table, and everywhere except at Sam or Dean. "Yes. No. I didn't die. Dean had to leave me behind. Out of necessity or preference, I don't know. It's understandable. Hello."

"Cas, I didn't..." Dean tries to explain, but Sam cuts him off.

"How'd you get out?"

"I had to rip out my grace to open the portal. And I got out. Now I'm human. I have a job here. Are humans supposed to be very hungry all the time? I'm always hungry. Maybe I'll learn to ignore it, after a while. I work here and they give me food. Hello, Sam. Hello, Dean."

Cas is talking quickly, crazy-Cas fast. Still, he won't even look at Dean-his eyes flicker towards Sam, but only for a brief moment before turning away. He takes a bite of his burger for something to do. Something that isn't acknowledging the Winchesters.

"Closing time, fellas, sorry," A petite waitress walks over. Her black hair is pulled back in a ponytail. She looks pleasantly surprised at the prospect of Cas having company. "These your friends, Cas?"

"Yes," Sam and Dean say at the same time Castiel says "No."

The waitress's light smile turns into a dark frown. That ruins any hope of reconciliation-any chance for a burger, too.

"I used to work with them," Castiel clarifies. The waitress puts a hand on Castiel's back-a protective hand, even, this skinny little waitress telling the Winchesters that she might not be able to take them, but she'd sure as hell try if they bother Cas anymore.

And, damn it, that's more than Dean's ever done.

"Finish your burger, sweetheart. I'll give you a ride home tonight."

With a warning glance to the brothers, the waitress heads to the back of the restaurant to put on her coat. Castiel raises his eyes slightly, risking a look at the Winchesters and then deciding not to.

"I...I...you can have my burger, if you want," Castiel mutters, pushing away his plate with the half-eaten burger. He joins the waitress at the coat rack. She hands him his coat. It's not his big boxy trench-coat, but something shorter and black. She whispers something, glancing at the Winchesters. Castiel whispers back. Even without hearing what's going on, Dean can tell that Castiel is calmer now that he has some distance from them.

Dean wants to stay. He wants to stare at Cas, Cas in his new coat. Did someone pick it out for him? Was it the waitress? Did he get confused when he shopped for it, all those designs and colors and options? Is the waitress his girlfriend? She seems more motherly to him than anything, but Cas is a handsome guy, and maybe he even seems normal when Dean isn't around. He picked out a new coat. He has a job. Who knows what else he could do?

Sam touches Dean's elbow. Dean can't linger anymore. The waitress looks ready to call the cops and Sam, Dean knows, needs to tear him a new one.

Dean meets Cas's eyes. Cas returns the gaze. But that's all. Cas maintains the eye contact, but he doesn't speak, doesn't try to get Dean to stay. Dean leaves. He walks out slowly, obviously, agonizingly slow, waiting for his friend to say "Wait-Dean!" in that clear, commanding voice of his. But he leaves the diner. He gets in his car. He drives to the motel, ignoring Sam's demands for answers. He falls onto the itchy bed and sleeps, and Castiel never tells him to come back.


End file.
